


Rebirth/Repeat

by NightsMistress



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: Gen, Post-Lightning Returns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being reborn doesn't really change who you are, Lightning finds, and getting a happy ending for Serah is more complicated than she thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth/Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Larissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larissa/gifts).



Being reborn on the new world doesn’t hurt, to Lightning’s surprise. It’s a simply a transition from the darkness of the Unseen Realm to the light of midday. Lighting squints against the sun as she gazes at the bucolic countryside, full of rolling hills and fresh green grass, contrasting against a crisply blue sky. The air is redolent with the heady scent of wildflowers, enough to make her sinuses itch, and the sunlight is warm against her bare skin.

It’s a peaceful landscape, one without the fingerprints of the gods or their fal’Cie to mar it. They have stolen a world from a god and made it their own. It’s a miracle that Lightning has not dared to imagine experiencing for herself.

Around her are the sounds of the others awakening on the new world, but Lightning only has eyes for one person. She looks for the person she served then defied Bhunivelze for, the person whose path she guided to her death.

Serah is shading her eyes with her hand as she blinks sleepily, like a child awoken from a nap. She is almost exactly as Lightning remembers her: wavy pink hair spilling over her shoulder from its side ponytail, bright clear eyes the colour of a summer sky, wearing the same outfit she had worn back home in Bodhum. She’s leaning against Snow’s side, small hand nestled inside his much larger one, and she’s smiling at him like she’s finally found something that she had been missing for a very long time.

In a way, that’s entirely true.

Lightning winces at the pang of guilt the sight of Serah and Snow inspires, and reminds herself that in Valhalla she was limited in who and what she could use to try to save humanity. There had been no one else she could have asked. It’s a truth that doesn’t salve her conscience.

Serah turns to Lightning, beams, and steps towards her.

“Lightning!”

“Serah.” It’s all that Lightning can get out from the weight of her chest and the sudden, terrifying realisation that she has a second chance. This time, she can make sure that Serah has a future, a happy one, with all the things that she missed out in her past life. She manages a smile that feels more real the longer she wears it. “You made it.”

“We _all_ made it, thanks to you.” Serah cocks her head, still smiling. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” It’s hard to believe, after a thousand years, that Serah is here, smiling and free of the shackles of fate that had bound her. Lightning had been willing to promise anything in order to ensure that Serah had got the future she had wanted back on Cocoon, before everything happened. She is still willing.

“Hey, sis,” Snow says, still by Serah’s side. He’s smiling too, not the giddy smile he had worn on Pulse under the shadow of Vanille and Fang’s crystal pillar, but he isn’t that person any more. None of them are. Still, there’s a light inside him that she hadn’t seen in Yusnaan, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Got a favour to ask. Y’know, I asked you before and we still haven’t done it but …”

Lightning laughs, because she can see where this is going. “I know. You want my blessing again.”

Snow laughs too, without the thread of bitterness that had been woven into everything he did before, and looks at Serah like she’s the centre of his world. “Yeah. We won’t be getting married right away, but … it’ll be soon.”

“You have it,” Lightning says immediately. “But you have to remember to invite me to the wedding.”

Serah giggles. “Invite you? I was going to ask you to be my maid of honour.”

For a moment, Lightning is speechless. “Are you sure you don’t want someone else? Someone good at —“ Lightning stops herself before she makes more of a fool of herself. “Someone good at that sort of thing,” she manages finally.

“I want you to do it,” Serah says. She smiles. Her words are softly spoken, but there’s a spine of steel to them that wasn’t there before Lightning sent her on a journey to the end of the world. It’s the first real sign to Lightning of how much Serah has changed, and she doesn’t know what to make of it.

“All right.” Lightning concedes the argument readily. “But for now, let’s go home.” It’s strange, but even as she says it she knows that there is a key in the pocket of her skirt that will turn the lock of a home not far from here. It’s a small house, shaped like a peanut, with everything that she remembers from their home in Bodhum, paid for out of her salary as a cop. It should be a contradiction, as she has never lived on this planet before. Instead the memories she has of living on this planet complement the memories she has of her previous life. From the slightly puzzled frowns everyone seems to be wearing, their memories of two parallel lives are also aligning neatly.

“Well, we’d have to,” Serah points out playfully. “Snow’s motorbike is there. How else will he get home!”

“You know I hate that motorbike,” Lightning says, shaking her head ruefully as the group follow her home. It’s a comment without heat, however, as right now she doesn’t think she could really muster up anything stronger than mild dislike for _anything_. Serah is alive and she is going to have everything that she missed out on in Cocoon.

Lightning is going to make sure of that.

* * *

 

Serah’s life is packed up in boxes, stacked neatly into the back of a truck, and Lightning is telling herself that moving out doesn’t mean cutting ties entirely.

It is inevitable, she supposes, that Serah would want to live with Snow. They’re engaged, with a date set down in the fall, and this time around Lightning will be present for it. It would be strange to live with Lightning under those circumstances, and Lightning would be the first to admit that she does not want to share a house with two lovebirds. She is quite fond of Snow now — that tends to happen when you save someone’s soul, or so she finds — and she thinks that he will be good for Serah. That doesn’t mean that she wants to share a house with him.

However, now that they have come to the sticking point. Serah is doing one last pass through the house they once shared to ensure she has everything loaded in the back of the truck. Lightning isn’t sure that she wants anything to change. They have lived together for so long that Serah living living away from their family home is uncharted territory. They’re both facing new frontiers, in different directions, and Lightning can’t predict where that will take them in relation to each other. She is terrified of making mistakes with Serah and ruining her second chance to make things right.

“I think this is everything,” Serah announces, sweeping the sweaty tangles of her hair off her face. Most of her hair is caught up in a bandanna — presumably one of Snow’s — but some has escaped. She looks tired, but also pleased with herself. It has been a herculean effort, done over a few days with the help of Team NORA, and they should be proud of themselves.

Lightning doesn’t want her to leave.

“You know … you’re always welcome to come back.” It sounds as awkward as Lightning feels, and she winces.

“Don’t worry,” Serah promises. “I’m not going far away. We’re only a hour or so down the road!”

It’s more like three, but Lightning appreciates the sentiment. “I might have to learn to cook,” she jokes weakly and Serah laughs.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she says. “I’m going to have to learn to clean! Unless Snow’s good at that.”

“No idea.” Lightning shrugs. “I guess someone in NORA would have had to learn.”

“They all could,” Serah assures her. “When we all lived together, we all chipped in. But now it’s just going to be me and Snow.” She sounds dreamily happy as she says the last three words, and Lightning smiles at it.

“Were they really that bad to live with?”

Serah waves her hands in quick, fervent denial. “No, they were lovely! I’m just … ready to live with Snow now. We’re getting married soon! I can’t believe it!”

Lightning hoists the last box to her hip. It’s lighter than she expects the last thing tying Serah to this house to be, even though she knows that it is really only filled with Serah’s plushies and her security blanket. “Let’s get you finished,” she says.

Serah looks around Lightning’s little house, filled only with Lightning’s possessions now, one last time before turning to look at her. She frowns, and Lightning wonders what it is that she sees. “Are you going to be okay?” Serah asks. She’s looking at Lightning intently, and Lighting feels like she’s being analysed.

She should be happy. This is what Serah wants, and therefore it should be what Lightning wants.

“Don’t worry about me,” Lightning says firmly. “It’ll be nice to have the place to myself.”

Serah nods. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s been a while since you’ve had a place for you, you know? And I’ve left some frozen meals in the freezer, so you won’t have to learn to cook just yet.”

Lightning shakes her head in apparent disbelief. “You have so little faith in me?”

“I figure you’ve got more important things to worry about. Don’t work too hard!”

“I won’t. I know my own limits.”

“Hm,” is all that Serah says.

The driver of the truck honks the horn, saving Lightning from answering. She adjusts her grip on the box, though it’s entirely unnecessary, and does one last visual inspection of the house. “We can’t keep the driver waiting,” she says and heads out to the truck.

* * *

 

It’s been several weeks since Serah moved out, and Lightning has been throwing herself into her work at the police precinct. She’s a cop in this world, the closest thing they have to a Guardian Corps, and she’s good at what she does. She picks up the shifts that no one else wants, working overtime and putting aside money for Serah. For university expenses, for wedding expenses, for children.

It hadn’t crossed her mind that Serah may not need her help at all, until Serah came to visit for an afternoon, barely outracing a rainstorm on Snow’s motorbike. It’s already started to rain when Serah arrives, the sky a dark promise of more rain to come, and Lightning is thinking of warm drinks and towels. Lightning hands Serah a towel, which she accepts with a mumbled thanks.

Serah dries herself off in quick, rough motions, before draping the towel across her shoulders as she sits down on the far right side of the sofa. Lightning takes a seat next to her. This close, she can feel Serah’s shivering start to subside as she adjusts to the warm living room.

“I didn’t know you could ride a motorbike,” Lightning says noncommittally.

“Snow’s been teaching me.”

“To ride in the rain?”

“Not _exactly_ …” Serah makes a face, much like how she used to as a child when caught out in a lie. “It wasn’t raining when I left though.”

“Uh huh.”

Serah colours in response to Lightning’s skepticism. “Don’t be like that,” she complains.

“I’m your sister, I’m allowed.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” She sighs. “I could have waited, but I had something I needed to tell you. Before I lost my nerve.” She glances down at the ground before, with a deliberate effort, raising her chin to look at Lightning.

Lightning can’t imagine what has Serah so anxious.

“I’m taking a year off from my studies,” Serah says, and for a moment Lightning doesn’t know what to say. There are any number of possibilities for why Serah might want to take a year from studying, but one possibility seems likely. After all, Serah and Snow are engaged, living together, and Lightning is not so naive as to think that their relationship is limited to holding hands and chaste kissing.

“Are you pregnant?”

Serah stares at Lightning blankly, clearly taken aback by the question, and Lightning feels stupid for asking it.

“No!” Serah manages. She giggles, but it’s clearly due to nerves rather than finding Lightning’s comment amusing. “It’s definitely nothing like that. I’m going to work full time for a year and save up some money.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Lightning says firmly. She’s stung that Serah didn’t ask her for help but help is something she can offer. “If money’s the problem, I can take care of that for you. I’ve been working overtime at the precinct to put some money aside. It’s yours.”

“Sis,” Serah says on a sigh. “When are you going to live _your_ life?”

Another mistake: making Serah worry about her. Lightning just wants Serah to know she can place her faith in Lightning’s support, but it seems that Lightning can do nothing but make mistakes.

“This is my life.” Lightning knows it’s a weak protest, despite the snap in her words.

“No, it isn’t.” Serah’s words are soft but there is steel behind them. “When was the last time you did something _you_ wanted to do?”

“That’s not what this is about.” Lightning shakes her head sharply once.

“Yes, it is. We all got a second chance. All of us. But all you’re doing is putting your life on hold so that you can give me things. I don’t need you to do that anymore.”

Serah’s words are too close to the insecurity that Lightning keeps nestled in her breast: that she has not done enough and Serah had to make up her shortfalls. She snorts derisively, trying to deflect the conversation. “I’m not putting my life on hold, though it sounds like you are. Don’t be stupid. Take the money.”

“No, I can’t,” Serah says. “It’s not just about money. I want to do this myself. You’ve done so much for me, and it’s not fair. I’ve got a job as a teacher’s aide. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”

It’s not the way that Lightning had anticipated Serah’s life to go. She’s assumed that Serah will get married to Snow as soon as possible, will start university, and will settle back into the life that Lightning has worked hard for her to have. It stings that Serah doesn’t need her like that any more, and in the past Lightning would have dealt with that hurt by lashing out. She knows this. She knows that she must consciously choose to do something else as her first reaction is, and may always be, to lash out like a wounded animal protecting itself.

Five hundred years of crystal sleep will give even Lightning an opportunity for self-reflection.

Serah is looking at her, waiting for a response. No, she’s braced for a response. Chin up, shoulders square, spine straight like a rod. That is also telling; Serah knew that Lightning would be unhappy but still chose to tell her, by herself, without the comforting presence of Snow beside her.

She’s grown up. Lightning isn’t sure what to make of that, or of her mixed feelings. Instead, she makes a conscious choice to support Serah.

“I don’t like it,” Lightning starts.

Serah is quick to interrupt with, “I know.”

Lightning raises a hand to stem the flow of Serah’s words. “Let me finish.” She waits, and Serah says nothing more. “I don’t like it, but I’ll support your decision.”

Serah visibly relaxes. “Thank you, sis.”

Lightning doesn’t quite manage a smile to return Serah’s relieved grin, but she nods.

“Thank you.” Serah smiles, relieved, and Lightning manages a smile in return. She should be happy. She should feel closer to Serah now that they can have a disagreement without Lightning losing her temper. She should be relieved that Serah is able to make her own decisions, in the face of disapproval, and stand by her convictions.

She’s not. Looking out for Serah is Lightning’s life. It has been ever since she promised her mother at the hospital that she’d always take care of her. Who is she, if she’s not taking care of Serah?

It’s a question that troubles her over the following weeks, as she participates in the wedding planning. It’s a question that she isn’t sure she has an answer for.

* * *

 

Lightning’s shift ends and she finds herself at a loss for things to occupy her time. The night is young, with people spilling into the streets after a day’s work in the office, and she doesn’t want to go home just yet. Serah’s words about her not having a personal life still sting, and she heads into the nearest bar that doesn’t look like a dive. Whether it’s to prove a point to Serah or to herself, or the world in general, she’s not sure.

The bar itself is quieter than Lightning anticipates, half-full and the conversation a susurrus rather than a roar. In the background there’s a pianist tinkling something playful, though Lightning’s no musician, and it seems like a more sedate, grownup bar than she had been looking for. She thinks about leaving and finding somewhere a bit louder.

Instead, she scans the bar one last time and spots Hope sitting at a table in the back, nursing a beer and a bundle of papers, looking mildly frustrated. She’s not sure what’s more strange about the situation: the two of them being in the same place at the same time, or that the boy she had known once is now more than old enough to drink.

She slips into the chair in front of him and his head snaps up. He smiles when he recognises her. “Light! It’s been a while.”

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she says. “Bringing your work out of the office?”

“Something like that,” Hope says ruefully. “It never gets done. Still, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. How have you been?”

“Well enough,” Light says. “Serah moved out a while back, and it’s … strange. Having the place to myself.”

“I heard about that,” Hope says. “The wedding’s in the fall, isn’t it? I received my invitation the other day.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“And you? Has something happened with you?”

“I’m just doing the same thing I was before.”

Lightning hadn’t meant to sound so self-derisive. She’s in the new world. She has a new chance to make things right. And yet, here she is in a bar, while someone who was like a little brother is frowning thoughtfully at her, cogs clearly working as he puzzles something out.

“What do you mean?” he probes gently.

Lightning shrugs. “It’s nothing.” She folds her arms defensively as Hope says nothing. She doesn’t like his expression, a mix of understanding and sympathy, and she especially doesn’t like that she doesn’t understand what he is sympathetic and understanding _about_. “What? Spit it out, Hope.”

“Light,” Hope says carefully. He only ever speaks like that if he’s about to share a painful truth with someone, and Lightning tenses in anticipation for the blow. “It’s okay that you’re struggling to adjust. I think we all are.”

If it had been anyone else, Lightning would have stemmed the flow of their words with a harsh remark, and damn the consequences. That didn’t serve her well in the past. She’s trying to be a better sister. A better friend. A better her. And this is someone who has seen her at her lowest point and came to save her anyway.

Confessing still feels like exposing her soft underbelly to the terrible teeth of a monster.

Hope stays silent. Waiting for her to fill the silence with words.

“I’m supposed to be in the Land of the Dead,” she says, and cringes at how vulnerable she sounds. “I - I didn’t plan it, but I didn’t expect to live on past fighting Bhunivelze. Saving Serah — I thought that was enough for me.”

“I don’t regret saving you.” Hope’s sincerity is as embarrassing for him as it is for her, judging from his embarrassed smile and the flush rising up his neck. “I’d meant to die too, after all.”

It’s a conversation that the two of them have been carefully avoiding having since waking up on the new world. Lightning has no desire to ever talk about it, and from the way that Hope is looking down and away from her, he doesn’t want to either.

They should have the conversation. She knows it, and she knows that Hope knows it. Lightning’s never been good at talking about her feelings, and it seems that Hope hasn’t gotten any better.

“What a pair we make,” Lightning says sardonically.

“I know.” Hope fidgets with the paper napkin. He takes a breath. “I don’t regret not telling you about Bhunivelze’s plans for me.”

“You should have told me,” Lightning says. “But given how God was using you as his puppet, I’m not sure you would have been able, even if you had wanted to. I should have put it together sooner. What else was God going to do with you once the thirteen days were up?”

“You were busy, and I’d deliberately kept it from you. How else could you have known without me telling you?”

“I still should have,” Lightning says stubbornly. She snorts. “Even at the very end, I’m blindly walking people to their deaths. How do you make up for that? I don’t know.”

“Ah,” Hope says. “This is what’s been troubling you all this time.”

“What are you saying?” Lightning demands, afraid of what he is going to say. Fear makes her angry, and she clings to that anger, hollow a shield as it is.

Hope presses his lips together, looks away. “Serah’s death was hard. For all of us.” He then looks at her. “But she walked to it with her eyes open. I don’t think Serah would want you to think you had to make up for anything.”

Lightning shakes her head, because there is so much that she has done that she must atone for. Especially to Serah. “You don’t know that.”

“Light …” Hope’s voice is patient. That makes listening to what he has to say more painful. “Sometimes all of your choices are bad ones. All you can do then is choose the option with the price that you’re willing to pay. I’m sure that Serah knew that going to 400 AF to fight Caius would mean her death. That was the price she was willing to pay for the chance of a better future.”

Her fingernails carve ragged crescent moons into the flesh of her hands.

“She didn’t know.”

“She knew. I know you could see all of time in Valhalla, but you didn’t see Serah in 400AF, like I did. When I saw her, before she fought Caius, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop her.” He laughs slightly. There’s no mirth in it. “She’s a lot like you in that regard.”

“Yeah. And then I killed her.”

“She doesn’t think of it that way. And she definitely wouldn’t want you to sacrifice everything again for her.”

“How do you know?” She manages not to say _you can’t know that_ but it’s a close-run thing.

“We stay in touch,” Hope says. This time, he manages to smile though it’s more of a wry twist of his mouth than genuine amusement. “It’s a novelty, being able to speak to Serah every few weeks rather than every few years.”

Lightning leans forward on her elbows, pinning Hope’s paperwork to the table. “So tell me, if you know so much. If everyone has been affected by being reborn, how has it affected Serah?”

Hope shakes his head. “That’s not a question you should be asking me. Serah is the one best placed to answer that question. She might even tell you, if you let her. She’s not the person she was on Cocoon. She might surprise you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She looks across at the bar. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t say that she’s running away, even briefly. He guides the conversation when she returns to safer topics: their respective plans for the weekend

It’s only when Lightning stands up in preparation to leave for the evening that Hope brings back the earlier topic. “Light, don’t let it go on too long before you say something.”

“Tch. Alright, I got it.”

* * *

 

She doesn’t leave it too long. She has shifts that she cannot get out of, but she has a free day a week after she spoke with Hope. Her pride is stung enough that she wants to get this out of the way. She rehearses what she might say to Serah on the drive over, discarding multiple opening lines as being too stiff, too formal, too awkward.

She still does not have a way to breach the conversation by the time she arrives, and knocks on the door. Serah calls out “It’s open,” and Lightning is distracted from her nerves by a flash of frustration that Serah is not taking proper precautions with her safety to lock the front door.

She finds Serah sitting on the floor of her living room, glossy brochures scattered around her like petals. Lightning finds the big fake smiles of the model brides on the covers disturbing; dead eyes above bared teeth. It seems that for these covers, weddings are less of a happy union of two people and more of a blood sport.

Well. Lightning fought gods and godslayers. She can handle the airbrushed gauntlet of bridal magazines.

“Hey, Serah,” she says and sits down beside her. The wood is cool against the calf pressed to the ground and she shifts her weight to try and find a comfortable position

“They’re creepy, aren’t they?” Serah says in way of greeting, nodding at the magazines scattered around her. “I used to fight with monsters, but they were much cuter than these.”

“Then why are you looking?”

“People gave them to me and I felt bad saying no,” Serah explains sheepishly, the corner of her mouth turned up. “I know that I should care about these things, but the only thing I really care about is that I’m marrying Snow.” She sneaks a look at Lightning through her fringe. “Would you be disappointed if we didn’t bother with any of this?”

Lightning shakes her head. “Nope. This is your wedding.” Pragmatism makes her add, “Besides, it’d be cheaper for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Serah says, wincing. “I know that I could have handled that better. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. What I should have said to you. I just …” She gestures aimlessly with her hands.

“What is it, Serah?” Lightning says, when it becomes clear that the silence is dragging on.

Serah twists the corner of one of the magazines around her finger. “When I died…” She stops, frowning, before starting again. “When I died, I could see everything. I know that you went into crystal sleep for me, for five hundred years. I know that you worked with Bhunivelze for a chance to save me. You did all these things for me. You protected me every step of the way.”

For a moment, Lightning is speechless. It is one thing to be told that Serah may simply tell her what is wrong. It’s another for it to actually happen.

“Have you been thinking this all this time?” Lightning asks.

Serah nods. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, but it’s a big part of it. I decided that my second chance is going to include making sure _you_ have a second chance. That means giving you space to do things and making my own way, you know?”

Lightning feels stupid now, because of course that was what Serah was doing. All of this could have been cleared up had she simply asked Serah how she was and what she was thinking. It was ridiculous that she had to be told to ask Serah.

However, it’s not the end of the world. After all, Lightning has done that and come through to the other side.

Perhaps what the new world really represents is a second chance at learning to communicate with one another. It’s been so long since Lightning wasn’t Serah’s guardian, that she has to relearn how to talk to Serah like a sister. Like she’s _Claire_. It’s a name that feels strange to her. But she might get used to it in time. She might as well try to claim it back now as a reminder of what she should do now.

“All right,” Claire says. “But you know that I decided _my_ second chance was making sure you had one. So we’re going to have to work together here.”


End file.
